Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy #1) - Rachel Higginson Page 0,22
low mumbles turned into familiar chants. Oliver only started his incantations when he was in particular trouble.
“They claim to have no money,” Eret announced for us. “And that they did not know there was to be a toll expected of them.”
“Is that so?” The new man, Arrick, murmured. He leaned down so that he could take stock of my face even while his remained hidden behind a hood.
I closed my eyes for a moment, desperately searching for courage. When I opened them, I found myself staring into startling bright blue eyes framed by thick lashes. He pulled back at once and his face was covered in shadow again. “But alas,” his hand swept over my forehead, pulling at something dangling there, “I’ve found something after all.”
He yanked and the chain around my neck snapped free. He’d taken the necklace I’d been wearing ever since Father Garius had returned it to me.
White hot fury blinded me. “Give it back,” I demanded.
He was silent for a minute, staring at the necklace now resting in his palm. Finally, he declared a steely, “No.” His haughty tone ensured his death.
“Now,” I insisted.
Ignoring me, he pulled his hood back so he could better inspect the pendants. With a quick turn of his head and flash of teeth, he smiled at me, although it looked all wrong from where I hung. “This is a very rare piece,” he noted. “Wherever did you get it?”
“From the pits of Denamon. It’s cursed. You’d better give it back to me before your hands turn to ash and your manhood melts.”
“What threats,” he grinned. He looked to his fellow bandits. “She’s a feisty one, isn’t she? If she hadn’t walked into your traps, I dare say you might have had a fight on your hands.”
“Give it to me or you’ll regret laughing,” I hissed.
He stared at me for a long while, taking in my upside-down features. Then, seeming to find me lacking in some way, he swept out his foot and kicked my satchel, then Oliver’s, over to his friends. “Take them both,” he ordered. “Who knows what other cursed objects we’ll find inside.”
“I shall hunt you down,” I called after him as they started to walk away. “You shall rue the day you stole something from me!”
Arrick glanced back with a smirk, his hood covering every part of his face but that bloody smile. “That shall be hard to do,” he laughed. “Since more than likely the savage beasts that roam these parts will find you before help does.”
The three men disappeared into the shadows of the forest while Oliver and I hung helplessly in midair. I let out a scream of frustration that followed after them when I couldn’t.
As soon as they were gone, Oliver stopped praying. I turned to him. “Now what?”
But he had already started moving. His rope swung back and forth, creaking in protest, while he lifted his torso up until he could reach into his boot. He managed to grab a small dagger before dropping back down again.
“Wherever did that come from?” I asked. It would have been nice to know he had a plan.
“It didn’t seem prudent before.”
“Prudent?” I couldn’t believe him! “He stole my necklace, Oliver! My satchel! Please explain the definition of prudency to me because clearly I don’t understand it!”
He paused in his strained efforts to cut his legs free from the thick rope holding him aloft. “I could hardly fight off three men with a dagger of this size, while you hung there like a damsel in distress, now could I? Better to let them think they’ve gotten away with something so we can follow after them.”
He had a point.
I hated it when he had a point.
“Fine,” I conceded. “But hurry up!”
He gave me another weary glare before he got to work on his legs once more. In no time he’d cut himself down, landing with a thud on the blanket of leaves and mud below. In another few minutes he’d cut me free and I’d collected myself from the ground. Slower than I would have liked, I worked feeling back into my legs and cleared my head of the dizziness as my blood returned to its natural course.
I leapt to my sword, which the rebels had left behind, and Oliver did the same. The blades appeared weak and poorly made. Which was the intention of the Brothers that fashioned them. And probably the reason the rebels hadn’t bothered to take them.